


The Movie's Overrated

by slashmyheartandhopetoporn



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 00:17:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4585731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmyheartandhopetoporn/pseuds/slashmyheartandhopetoporn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Syndicate mission did a number on Benji.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Movie's Overrated

After they find Ethan in that roadside bar and determine this shit ain’t over till it’s over, they hole up in some cheap motel Benji couldn’t tell you jack squat about because he’s so damn tired. He just waits for Will to come get him once they have a room and then help lug him into it.

“Any chance you’d be willing to carry me in bridal style?” he asks, only half kidding.

Will smirks. “Luther’s already processing the fact we’re a thing. I think me carrying you like we’re newlyweds might give him a heart attack.”

“Poor dear,” Benji offers half-heartedly; even speaking hurts.

Will bends down and gently lifts Benji’s arm over his shoulders so he can help pull him up. “C’mon, babe,” he says, grunting with the effort of lifting Benji’s near-dead weight. “I got a bed to get you tucked into.”

“Noticeably not in the bridal style,” whines Benji in return.

Will laughs quietly. “Next time, sweet cheeks.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” replies Benji as he limps along.

Benji doesn’t pay any attention to the quality of the room, he simply makes a beeline for the bed and then collapses face-first onto it with a groan. “That may have been a mistake,” he says into the comforter. “And I may need you to turn me over.” A beat. “Scratch that--I definitely need you to turn me over.”

Even muffled, Will understands what Benji’s asking for, and as carefully as he can he complies with the request, maneuvering Benji until he’s face up on the bed. Then he moves down to start undoing Benji’s shoelaces.

Benji cranes his head as best he can to watch, then murmurs a quiet, “Thank you.”

Will shakes his head. “It’s nothing, Benji.”

Benji lets his head fall back on the bed with a sigh, and focuses on enjoying the tender way Will removes his shoes and socks. The way he leans over Benji to unzip his pants and then gingerly tug them off, along with his briefs.

“I sense an ulterior motive,” Benji says with a tired smile.

“Only if you're up for it,” Will agrees, coming to sit beside Benji on the bed.

“Well, let’s get the tops off first and then see how I feel, shall we?”

“You’re going to need to sit up for this.”

Benji groans again. “Can’t you just cut them off with scissors? I don’t think I’m capable of moving into an upright position."

But he manages it with Will’s help. And then together they manage to take off Benji’s shirts. And then they’re sitting together at eye level, and reality of the day sets into the muscles of Will’s shoulders, and he can’t keep himself from leaning forward and drawing Benji into the first kiss they’ve shared in days.

When Will pulls back, some of the tension has left him. But he can’t help himself saying, “You scared the shit out of me today, Benji.”

Benji thinks back to the sight of Ethan lying on the ground after having been fucking dead, and replies, “Been a lot of that going around today.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not ever allowed to do that to me again. I saw the car flip, you know. All however many times it did.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Will brings him in for another kiss. “So: how does a blow job sound?”

Benji laughs in surprise. “Let’s give it a go.”

Benji lays back down on the bed, not slowly enough, though, if his grunts of pain are anything to go by, and Will moves to kneel between Benji’s spread legs. “You have to be more careful,” Will chides, but he’s grinning.

“Shut it, Brandt,” grumbles Benji. “And then put that mouth to better use yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” replies Will, then he lowers his head to drop soft kisses to sensitive skin of Benji’s thighs. There’s a bruise blossoming there, as there are bruises blossoming all over his beaten body, a myriad of cuts and scrapes decorating his pale skin. Will knows they’re going to have to treat them sooner rather than later, but for now he focuses on simply kissing them better as best he can.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Benji begins, and Will is used to this, the way Benji tends to talk about unrelated things to distract himself from whatever delicious thing Will is doing to him. “In the car, I mean. Every time we touched the ground I saw your face.”

Will moves his kisses to base of Benji’s slowly swelling cock--anything to take Benji’s thoughts away from the events of the day. The way Benji hisses makes Will think he’s achieved his goal, but then Benji starts talking again.

“I thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to die, and all I could think about was your fucking face in that fucking car, and I was just--jesus christ, Will!”

Will had very quickly engulfed the whole of Benji’s penis in his mouth, desperate to get him to stop talking. It hadn’t been enough, though.

“Fuck, Will, I was just glad I wasn’t going to die in some god-awful desert where you didn’t even know I’d be.”

And then Will has to stop. Has to pull off Benji’s cock with an obscene pop, and dig his hands into Benji’s thighs. “Please stop fucking talking, Benji. Please just fucking stop.”

But Benji can’t stop talking anymore than he can stop the thoughts swirling nonstop in his head. Because he had been sure that was the end. Every hit in the car felt like one more step towards the finish line. Because he wasn’t Ethan. He wasn’t Jane. He wasn’t Will. He was a tech at heart, no matter how much he liked to pretend otherwise, and while he was suited to field work and enjoyed it immensely more, he never had any illusions he was the same kind of survivor the rest of his team was.

Benji is breathing heavily now, and he can’t stop muttering repeatedly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” until Will has to abandon his post between Benji’s legs to lay beside him instead and pull Benji close. For every apology Benji rasps out, Will matches with a fervent, “It’s okay, Benji, honey, it’s okay,” until finally Benji gulps down a few deep breaths and begins to calm.

“So, that didn’t go too well,” he says suddenly, gesturing down to his flaccid dick.

Will barks out a laugh. “Yeah, but it’s okay. You kind of tasted like sand anyway.”

Benji pulls an offended expression. “Blasphemy!” he accuses. “I taste like nothing short of intense manliness and whipped cream.”

Will runs a hand through Benji’s sweat-and-blood tangled hair. “You do,” he agrees. “But you also taste like you could use a shower.”

“You’re the most insensitive arse I’ve ever slept with,” snaps Benji, but there’s a hint of laughter behind the bite. “And that’s saying something.”

“Will you forgive me if I try that blowjob again in the shower?” asks Will hopefully, his hand now stroking along Benji’s cheek.

“Frankly, I’m not sure I’ve the strength,” Benji answers regretfully. “But what the hell? No harm finding out.” Will helps Benji off the bed, then both of them head towards the bathroom. "By the way," says Benji, "I have a bone to pick with Bogart and Bergman. I fucking hate Casablanca."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr and talk to me about these two babes! 
> 
> slashmyheartandhopetoporn.tumblr.com


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